If you’re lucky like me, your relationship with your brother has resolved itself on the peaceful side of the fence and has stayed there. But if you’re someone who’s got a family that’s all fractured and finding it hard to relate, that’s a very sad place to be.
Being an only child, I didn’t have any other family but my mom and dad really, since the rest of my family lived quite far away from London.
I have frequently been questioned, especially by women, of how I could reconcile family life with a scientific career. Well, it has not been easy.
I have a brother and sister; my mother does not care for thought, and father, too busy with his briefs to notice what we do. He buys me many books, but begs me not to read them, because he fears they joggle the mind.
He that raises a large Family, does indeed, while he lives to observe them, stand, as Watts says, a broader Mark for Sorrow; but then he stands a broader Mark for Pleasure too.
Family quarrels are bitter things. They don’t go according to any rules. They’re not like aches or wounds; they’re more like splits in the skin that won’t heal because there’s not enough material.
A family with the wrong members in control–that, perhaps, is as near as one can come to describing England in a phrase.